


Closure

by katrinawritesthings



Category: SHINee
Genre: Angst, Brotp, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-10-22 01:05:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10686612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katrinawritesthings/pseuds/katrinawritesthings
Summary: u know when like you had a bad breakup when you were fifteen and then years later you're still filled with bitterness and seething resentment and also you're both rival gang members and you accidentally get into a getaway car with your ex“At the–what?” Taemin frowns. “Why the mall?” That is completely random. They’re over fifteen minutes away. Jonghyun throws him a little frown.“Because I am not taking you to my hideout and I’m pretty sure you’re not gonna tell me where yours is so I can just drop you off with a pat on the ass?” he says.tumblrtw for guns and death and gang stuff nd also for talks about a past underage relationship





	Closure

This is predictable. This is so fucking predictable, from the harsh yells to the sporadic gunfire to the low cover Taemin is taking behind a flipped over table near the wall of this restaurant. It’s predictable from the way it started, a private meeting between the Kim family interrupted by the Lees (Taemin coming along because Sungmin offered him some McDonald’s coupons and he’s a sucker for free nuggets), to the politely blunt conversations, to the first gunshot, to where it is now, a full gunfight with a few knives stabbed in here and there (mostly Taemin’s doing). **  
**

It’s predictable right down to the fucking way Taemin sees Jonghyun vaulting a table and ducking behind it to reload and feels that hot flash of boiling fury in his heart, the anger that twists in his gut, the rage that makes his vision blur. It’s predictable in how he raises his gun and has a _perfect fucking shot_ to take out that asshole right fucking here.

And it’s predictable that just like every single time, Taemin’s face twists into a scowl as he switches his target to someone else and pulls the trigger on them instead. Seven years. He fucking hates this.

A small change happens then; in the midst of the two families fighting, a third crashes the party: Siwon kicking the kitchen door open and twenty of his Choi assholes flooding in from the back. Taemin hisses, immediately following his leader’s orders to get the fuck out of there. Already this is predictable again: bailing as soon as things get too overwhelming. He catches some Kims dartting out of the restaurant with him and doesn’t even care. None of them want to deal with the double ambush and they’re at some weird silent truce so they can leave together.

As Taemin launches himself to the passenger seat of the black honda in the parking lot, he feels it’s already on and starting to peal away before he even gets the door shut, just like usual. This is really starting to bug him, how average this adrenaline rush is becoming to him. He pushes his hair out of his face and swallows thickly, glancing at Jinki to ask if he’s okay.

And then he does a double take and his jaw drops as this suddenly becomes the second most shocking thing that’s ever happened to him in his life.

_“Jonghyun?_ ” he asks incredulously. What the _fuck._ He raises his gun by reflex to point at the fucker behind the wheel, who’s looking at him with just as much confusion.

“What the f--Tae? Hey, hey, hey, hey,” he snaps, glancing back and forth between the road and pulling his own gun out. “Don’t you fucking dare, I’m driving.” Taemin keeps his gun up, lips curled into a scowl. So the fuck what. Taemin could blow his head open and jump behind the wheel if he wanted to. _“Don’t,_ ” Jonghyun repeats venomously. Taemin scoffs. Like he thinks he’s intimidating.

“If you wanted to you would have shot me already,” he snarls. He feels anger pulsing behind his temple and clenches his teeth, lowering his gun just like every other time in his predictable fucking life. Two in one day is a new low for him, though. That’s something. “Why haven’t you?” he asks. Jonghyun glances at him again, lips pursed, and huffs shortly, lowing his own gun as well.

“I don’t want blood all over my car, Jinki would skin me alive, and I’m on a murder break,” he lists, taking a turn a little more sharply than advisable. Taemin glances behind them when he hears police sirens start up and breathes a little easier when they pass on a different road.

“A murder break?” he scoffs, turning back to Jonghyun, who winces.

“Look, it’s none of your fucking business and it ends tomorrow, just--call Jinki, tell him we’re meeting up at the mall.”

“At the--what?” Taemin frowns. “Why the mall?” That is completely random. They’re over fifteen minutes away. Jonghyun throws him a little frown.

“Because I am not taking you to my hideout and I’m pretty sure you’re not gonna tell me where yours is so I can just drop you off with a pat on the ass?” he says. Taemin’s temper flares again at his flippant attitude but he reaches for his phone pocket instead of his gun one. Jinki’s reply when he calls is nonexistent; it goes right to his answering machine and Taemin huffs without leaving a message. Great. Now he’s fucking worried about him too.

“He didn’t answer,” he says. Jonghyun huffs as well and digs in his pocket for his own pone. He taps to his contacts at a stoplight he couldn’t blow through and if Taemin squints, he can just see the name “Kibum” on the screen. Jonghyun puts it on speakerphone when Kibum answers.

“God, fuck--what do you want, where the fuck are you?”

“I’m with--” Jonghyun starts, and glances at Taemin. “Look, did you get in Jinki’s car by mistake?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Two voices say, and Taemin immediately perks up.

“Jinks,” he says loudly. “You okay?”

“Tae?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, I thought--yeah, I’m okay too, just--”

“We’re one of the cars being chased,” Kibum says. “Fuck, Jinki, there’s another on the left.” Taemin’s fingers clench in his shirt hem; Jonghyun growls and hits his steering wheel.

“Jinki, I swear to fuck, if you get him killed--”

“Calm the fuck down, I’ve had worse chases before,” Jinki snaps. Taemin’s breathing settles slightly at that reminder. He has. Taemin knows he has. “If you even fucking touch Taemin, though, Jonghyun--”

“I know, Jinki, fuck, you’ve described it to me perfectly multiple times.” Taemin doesn’t miss the slight shiver that shakes Jonghyun’s shoulders. “Look, just, I’m taking Taemin to the mall. Meet us there when you shake them.”

“Fine,” Jinki says, Kibum’s voice saying the same a second after. Jonghyun nods and his thumb goes for the end call button.

“Jinki be safe,” Taemin says quickly. The call ends right after he speaks; he’s relatively confident that it got through. His whole body still tingles with nerves heightened by the adrenaline of the situation and he ignores Jonghyun’s cocked brow. He rubs his temples and struggles to remember where his pressure points are the whole way to the mall. Suddenly he misses his predictability.

As soon as Jonghyun is turning into a parking space in front of the mall Taemin has his seatbelt undone and the door unlocked. He’s out of the car as soon as he can be with steady footing, running his hands through his hair and taking deep breaths. He hasn’t spent more than three minutes in the same room as Jonghyun since that final time seven years ago. That car ride and all of the anger and bitterness being constantly triggered really fucked him up. He _knows_ sitting and waiting with Jonghyun is going to fuck him up even more.

“You okay?” Jonghyun asks warily. Taemin turns to see him getting out of the car at his own slower pace. He grits his teeth.

“I want starbucks,” he says, and starts off towards the mall without another word.

Jonghyun jogs to catch up with him and Taemin feels his shoulders tensing up more and more with every step.

The trip to the coffee shop is blessedly short; it’s just a few stores down from the entrance Jonghyun parked by. He orders his drink as politely as possible with his jaw as tight as it is. Jonghyun throws him an amused little smirk when he steps up to make his own order and Taemin scowls, leaning up against the wall by the drink counter and crossing his arms. He doesn’t need this shit.

When their drinks come, they find a booth table in the corner and sit across from each other. Taemin focuses on wholly ignoring Jonghyun as much as he can as he pops the lid off of his cup and takes a sip straight from the whip on top. He grabs his stirrer and mixes the rest in, licks the drips off of it, and takes another sip. When he goes to put the stirrer down, he hesitates, glances around the table, and pulls a napkin out of the dispenser. It’s then that he accidentally glances up across the table. Jonghyun’s smirk grows even wider when their eyes lock and he cocks a brow. Taemin scowls and slaps the napkin down on the table.

“What?” he snaps. Jonghyun takes a small sip of his own coffee.

“Long time no date,” he grins. He throws in a wink too and Taemin’s fist clenches on the table.

“Fuck you,” he spits. Far from looking apologetic, or at least intimidated, Jonghyun snorts into quiet laughter.

“What, you’re not still mad about that, are you?” he asks. “It’s been, like, eight years.”

“Seven,” Taemin corrects harshly. “I loved you, you fucking asshole. You broke my heart. And my wrist.” It still pops and catches sometimes and it’s fucking obnoxious to try to work it back into place. Jonghyun snorts again. He shakes his head as he brings his coffee back to his lips, a gesture of fondness that offends Taemin at his very core.

“You know that’s just how shit is,” he says. “I was young and you were my first job.” He licks a bit of foam off of the rim of his cup and leans back in his chair, disgustingly smug. “And I passed with flying colors,” he adds. Taemin scowls. Of fucking course he did.

“I was still _fifteen,_ Jonghyun,” he says. “Just because I know what it’s like _now_ doesn’t mean I did _then._ And just because I know what it’s like now doesn’t mean it didn’t affect me. I was _barely_ into all of this shit. It was so fucking-- _fucked up_ , just.” He winces at the sudden memory, a harsh flash of blood and the first of many deaths he would see in his life. “I was fifteen and you’re my first love and I’m still fucking mad at you about it,” he snaps.

“I am?”

“What?”

“You said, “you’re,’” Jonghyun says. Taemin frowns. He doesn’t understand his point. “‘ _You are_ ,’” Jonghyun clarifies. “Present tense. I _am_ your first love?”

“Oh,” Taemin says. He thinks for a moment about backtracking, about grumbling at Jonghyun that it was just a slip of the tongue, but right now, Jonghyun isn’t even smiling. He’s looking at Taemin seriously, a deepness in his eyes that Taemin hasn’t seen in years.

He’s never been good at lying anyway.

“Yeah, well, maybe I still fucking love you a little bit,” he snaps. “Ever think about that, huh?” Maybe through all of the rage and betrayal and bullshit he’s still kind of attached. It’s not that wild of a notion as Jonghyun is making it out to be with his wide eyes on the other side of the booth.

“Dude, what the fuck,” he says. “It’s been, like, eight years.”

_“Seven_ ,” Taemin growls, kicking Jonghyun’s leg under the table. Jonghyun winces, glares, and kicks Taemin’s foot back.

“Whatever,” he says. “We’ve tried to kill each other a hundred times since then. How the fuck are you still in love with me?”

“I don’t--fucking know,” Taemin groans, slouching in his chair. That’s a lie. He tries to take a drink of his coffee to stop himself from admitting it, but when he lowers the cup it happens anyway. “I just--I never got any fucking closure, okay?”

“ _Closure_?” Jonghyun asks incredulously. “What the f--”

“ _Yes_ , Jonghyun, _closure,_ ” Taemin hisses. Jonghyun continues to stare at him blankly so he sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. “Look, I was young and you were my first ever love and everything was so--fucking-- _good_ with you,” he breathes. “It was so good.” He drinks more of his coffee and then shakes his head and reaches for the sugar packets in the center of the table. “You were warm and soft and sweet and _perfect_ and you were my escape from everything else in my fucked up life.” The guns, the fistfights, the suspiciously murderesque noises in the middle of the night, the fucking torture room he accidentally walked in on one time when he was nine. “Everything felt so _peaceful_ with you.” He rips open the sugar packets as he speaks, slowly emptying them one by one into his drink.

“And then you fucking--betrayed me, Jonghyun.” He scowls as he says it. It sounds so fucking cliché but even as he thinks about it he feels his hands starting to shake. He rips open another sugar packet and glares at the crystals as they slowly dissolve into his coffee. “And it was so _fucked up_ , like, my heart was in pieces on the fucking ground and I was bleeding and I didn’t even know what the fuck was going on before you were--just- _-gone!”_ He almost shouts the last word into the low murmur of the coffee shop but stops himself just in time. A few heads still turn to glance at him, which he ignores. Jonghyun is just staring at him, coffee stirrer hanging out of his lips.

“You just fucking left,” Taemin hisses, quieter but still furious. “And I couldn’t fucking _see_ you again to _talk_ to you about it, because since then every time we’ve seen each other we’ve wound up trying to fucking kill each other--and you know what’s fucked up?” Taemin asks. He crumples up his sugar packet and grabs another one. Jonghyun blinks; Taemin doesn’t even give him time to answer. “I could’ve killed you so many times,” he says. “So many times. I’ve had the perfect fucking shot on you _so many fucking times,_ Jonghyun. I could’ve shot you _today,_ half an hour ago.  You’re so fucking shit at taking cover. I’m fucking bewildered how you haven’t gotten yourself killed by someone else yet.

“But I can never _fucking_ do it because if I do it then I’ll never be able to fucking talk to you about it,” he says. He’s lost count of the sugar packets he’s put into his drink. “Like, I’ve never told anyone else about this bullshit and I’m mostly over you, most of the time, but sometimes I just-- _think_ about it.” His elbow falls heavily on the table as he props his head up in his hand. “And I get so _fucking_ pissed off, Jonghyun, because it still fucking _hurts_ in my _chest_ when I _think_ about you, just--” He threads the fingers of both hands through his hair and tugs, looks up with a glare that he _despises_ for being watery. The look of pity Jonghyun is giving him makes that familiar feeling come up in his chest again, the one he can’t fucking stand, the one that makes him remember when he thought Jonghyun ever fucking cared about him.

“And it’s fucking _bullshit,_ Jonghyun, all of this, that I’ve been so fucked up about this for so long, all just because you fucking tricked me into believing you were the one _good_ thing in my life before you fucking led your assholes--until you got me to _invite_ you and some _‘friends’_ to--and you fucking kissed me _while_ Youngwoon shot my-- _four_ of them-- _me-_ -and then you just--left, you fucking--betrayed me and never spoke to me again and fucking-just--just--” Several hairs come out of Taemin’s head when he takes his hands away. His vision blurs with an overflow of rage and he gathers up all of the empty sugar packets littered around, crumples them up, and chucks them viciously over the table.

“ _Fuck you, Jonghyun,”_ he spits.

The silence that stretches between them is long and painfully thick. Jonghyun still just stares, eyes big, two sugar packets slowly sinking into his coffee cup without his notice. Taemin stares back for a long moment until the reality of what he just did hits him and he groans in disgust, leaning back in his chair. He rubs his hands over his face, tugs his hair, clenches his teeth. He hates himself for spilling all of that. Emotions are fucking disgusting.

“Well--shit, Taemin, I don’t--” Jonghyun falls short in his words with a heavy breath. When Taemin moves his hands just enough to glare at him, he’s running his own hand through his hair and looking at a loss. “I mean, like. Do you wanna, fucking, like, talk about it now?” he asks. “For closure? So you can start trying to shoot me in peace?”

“I-- _now?”_ Taemin asks, eyebrows furrowing. It’s kind of fucking late now. Jonghyun shrugs wildly, though, a sugar packet fluttering off of his shoulder.

“You’re already come so far,” he says. “Ask me shit. Why the fuck not?” Taemin can think of a million reasons why not. He’s already shamed himself enough, he hates Jonghyun’s soul, he shouldn’t be detailing all of his exact emotions to someone that’s in a rival family’s gang and has already proven himself to be manipulative trash…. Taemin sighs and sits up straight. He pushes his hair out of his face, crosses his arms, glares across the table and opens his mouth to ask the one question that’s haunted him the most these past seven years.

“Did you ever even love me?”

“I mean,” Jonghyun says. He blinks, shrugs, blows a puff of air through his lips. “A little, yeah, actually.”

“How much?” Taemin asks. His fingers dig into his arms and his voice goes rough on the end as Jonghyun’s dismissive reply. “Because I loved you a _lot.”_

“I mean,” Jonghyun says again. “Like, a fair amount, I guess?” He plucks the sugar packets out of his coffee and takes a sip. “Like, I’ve kinda realized since then that I’m pretty demi? So like--”

“Good for you,” Taemin mutters darkly. That is fucking fantastic. He’s super glad that Jonghyun figured out his romantic orientation because that is extremely important information for him to know right now. He cares _so much._

_“So,_ ” Jonghyun says, louder this time, and he’s frowning when Taemin glances up. “I was close enough to you _to_ love you. That’s a good fucking amount for me, Taemin.” He holds Taemin’s glare with his own for a second before he sighs and leans back in his chair. “Like, not enough to take a bullet for you or anything, but….” He shrugs, leaving it there. Taemin scoffs.

“Yeah,” he snaps. “I know that.” He flips his jacket off of his shoulders and yanks the left side of his shirt collar down far enough to expose the rough circular scar on his shoulder. Jonghyun was _there_ when that bullet pierced through Taemin’s skin. He ducked out of the fucking way and _let_ it hit him.

“Oh,” Jonghyun says, and to Taemin’s annoyance, his lips curve up into a grin. “I forgot about that,” he says. “It healed up nice?”

“God, I fucking hate you,” Taemin breathes. He hates how Jonghyun could so easily forget shit that Taemin has permanently scarred onto his body and in his memory. He hates how this is just confirming how fucking little Jonghyun cared about him, how lightly he takes the day that sometimes visits Taemin in his nightmares. How every single time Taemin has seen him since then, in quick flashes during jobs or between bullets during gunfights, he’s smirking and joking and having a grand old time. Like this life is perfect for him, like it’s what he’s always wanted, like he’s not constantly torn up about something that happened seven years ago, like his life doesn’t revolve around Taemin like Taemin’s seems to revolve around his.

“Yes, it healed up fine,” he says. “It still hurts sometimes, but so does everything else in my life.” One scar hurting isn’t anything special. All of them do that. Taemin’s whole _body_ does that. The only thing that’s different about his shoulder scar is that every time it twinges it brings back memories that Taemin would get shot again to forget.

“It was you or me, dude,” Jonghyun shrugs. Taemin sighs slowly. That at least he can agree with. He brings his coffee to his lips to take another drink; as soon as it touches his tastebuds he grimaces. It’s so fucking sweet. He puts it down with a sigh and looks back up. Jonghyun is gently pushing all of the crumpled up sugar packets Taemin threw at him into a little pile.

“Did you regret it?” he asks. He waits for Jonghyun to look up before he adds more. “At all? Did you feel _any_ guilt whatsoever?” He’s not even sure why he’s asking this. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to handle the answer either way. Jonghyun blinks at him, surprised.

“Well--yeah,” he says, like that should be obvious. Taemin scoffs, rolling his eyes. Sure. “Hey.” Jonghyun leans closer with a frown. “I _did,”_ he says. “I mean, I feel worse now than then, seeing you like this, but I _did_ feel bad back then, Taemin.” He takes a drink of his coffee and shrugs his shoulders, staring into the cup. “I felt like an asshole. You trusted me so much.” He looks up to meet Taemin’s eyes, a contact that Taemin doesn’t hold for more than a few seconds. “It was my job, and I was _going_ to finish my job,” he says. “But you were so… I don’t know. Young and naive and sweet. Heechul told me I would get over it, and I did, but at the time, it was hard for me.”

“Oh, it was hard for _you?_ ” Taemin sneers. What a fucking asshole. “Sorry being the direct cause of years of my trauma and pain was such an inconvenience,” he snaps. Jonghyun’s mouth turns into a scowl.

“Look,” he says. “You asked me a question and I answered. You don’t get to get all huffy about it.”

“Speaking of me being young,” Taemin says loudly, ignoring Jonghyun’s last sentence. “Can we talk about how fucking _creepy_ it was that I was fifteen and you were nineteen?” Add that to the list of fucked up shit that Jonghyun did to him. Jonghyun huffs.

“I was only nineteen for the last, like, two months,” he says.

“Don’t act like that makes it any less creepy, Jonghyun, eighteen is still a fucking adult.”  Jonghyun puffs up, but his mouth is silent when he opens it and after a second he deflates again.

“I know,” he mutters. Taemin frowns at him for another moment before looking back to his coffee. He doesn’t want to drink anymore; instead, he just picks up his stirrer again and swirls it through the drink. If he’s being honest, the age gap didn’t affect him as much as it could have. It was fucked up on Jonghyun’s part but not the most fucked up thing he's done. The broken wrist hurt more than the anal. He puts his face in his hands and rubs his palms into his eyes. They’re starting to hurt and his throat picking up a small ache. He wants to to go home.

“Text Kibum,” he mumbles. He only hears a short silence of hesitation before Jonghyun is rustling for his phone.

“He says they lost the cops,” Jonghyun tells him after a minute. “Jinki’s okay. They’re waiting in a parking garage for the coast to be super clear and then they’ll come here.” Taemin lifts his head to see Jonghyun stuffing his phone back into his pocket. “They’re on the other side of town,” he says. “Half an hour, at most.”

“Okay,” Taemin sighs, letting the word out in a slow breath. Fine. That’s good enough. He looks blearily around the rest of the starbucks, at the people chilling, the cute coffee decor.

“Do you wanna, like, go somewhere else?” Jonghyun asks. “Get something to eat? Ask me more questions?” He taps his fingers on the table and Taemin frowns at him. He wishes he weren’t too drained by all of these emotions to yell at Jonghyun some more. As much as he’s regretting it now, it felt good to finally get all of that shit off of his chest. It’s what he needed.

“I want…,” he starts slowly. He stares at Jonghyun, at his dark eyes, at his plush lips, at his tan skin, and thinks of something he’s thought of too much over the years. “I want breakup sex,” he mumbles. Jonghyun’s eyes go wide at that before he’s breathing out an incredulous laugh.

“I--are you serious?” he asks, and Taemin huffs.

“Yes, I’m serious,” he says, sitting up straight. “I want the breakup sex I never got, damn it.” He’s imagined it more times than he’s proud to admit; slow and sensual breakup sex, rough and angry breakup sex, quick and rushed breakup sex, _any_ breakup sex. “I want you to make me feel good even though I despise you, and I want you to make me orgasm over all the bitterness and anger and shit that’s settled in my soul ever since you fucking ruined me. Just, make me forget for like five minutes so I can move on.” He stands up decisively and tosses his half-empty coffee into the nearest trash can. ”Because fuck knows I deserve that shit,” he says.

Jonghyun stares at him for a long moment; then he sighs, shrugs, downs the rest of the coffee, and follows Taemin out of the shop.

Taemin follows Jonghyun through the mall; he assumes Jonghyun is taking him back to bang at the car, so he’s a little thrown off when Jonghyun ducks into a store. Once he follows he understands, and he rolls his eyes as Jonghyun squints at the shelves of lube and condoms before taking some up to the register.

Not long after that, Jonghyun has picked the lock to one of the janitors’ closets and pulled Taemin inside. Taemin pulls the door closed behind him and watches as Jonghyun unbuttons his shirt. He has a faint outline of abs that definitely weren’t there seven years ago and Taemin reaches out immediately to feel. Jonghyun’s skin is hot already, just like he remembers, and he hisses, pressing up closer. He hopes this doesn’t backfire and make him too nostalgic and even more fucked up.

“Tae,” Jonghyun breathes, pushing at his own jacket. Taemin is too lazy to take it off; he just undoes the button of his pants and fumbles with Jonghyun’s.

“I want you to fuck me,” he murmurs into the darkness of the closet. He wants to remember how it felt way back when when he was happy and make the conscious connection to the fact that this is the last time. Jonghyun’s reply is a snort.

“I haven’t topped in years, dude.” Taemin’s eyes flick to his, doing his best to make his glare obvious in the dim lighting. Their breaths mix together so close, both smelling like strong coffee.

“Well, then, this will be just as disappointing as I remember,” he says.

This time, Jonghyun’s answer is a rough growl and strong hands shoving him against the wall.

They’re done and sitting in the food court some twenty minutes later. Taemin is leaning back in his chair, letting the sun from the ceiling windows play across his face as he breathes slowly. That wasn’t bad. It was cramped and angry, full of snips and many painful bites (all his). Not the best sex he’s ever had, but as he lazily cracks open one eye to see Jonghyun texting on his phone on the other side of the table, he has to admit that he’s satisfied. He can accept that as their last bang, as full closure, as as close to an apology as he’s ever going to get. Jonghyun looks up; He sees Taemin looking and wiggles his phone.

“They’re almost here,” he says. “They’re outside.”

“Mmm. Cool,” Taemin hums. He wishes he were less tired. He wants to be excited to see Jinki, to be relieved and thankful and grateful when he shows up. Right now he just feels like sleeping for five years.

When the other two show up, Taemin only notices because Jonghyun stands up immediately to tug Kibum close in a hug. He looks from them to Jinki, who is suddenly standing behind his chair with a concerned frown. He reaches up and pokes Jinki’s chest.

“Thanks for not leaving me alone,” he says quietly. Jinki grins back and tugs him out of the chair.

“You too,” he says, and Taemin knows that they both know the deeper meaning behind those words. They turn to Jonghyun and Kibum then. “We're leaving first,” Taemin says, and flips Kibum off when he tries to protest. He is tired and worn out and he wants to crash in his nice soft bed as soon as possible, and waiting a few minutes for those two assholes to leave first without being watched is out of the question. Taemin looks at Jonghyun with a frown, but also a little shrug.

“Next time I see you I am putting several bullets into your skull,” he says. He grabs his jacket off of the chair and wiggles his arms through it as Kibum narrows his eyes.

“Do it and they’ll find your body in seven different cities,” he hisses.

“Fuck you,” Taemin replies, and grabs Jinki’s elbow on the turn to get him to follow. He never has the patience for Kibum’s threats on a regular day. He and Jinki walk in silence for a few stores, until they reach the walkway that leads to one of the exits.

“You fucked him, didn’t you?” Jinki asks then. Taemin snorts.

“And you fucked Kibum, so the fuck what,” he says. Jinki shakes his head in exasperation and looks away, like Taemin is ridiculous for even suggesting that, but Taemin sees the sparkles on his skin. There’s only one person with that much glitter that would rub off on anyone. They continue their silence all the way out to the car, where Taemin fits himself into the passenger seat with a contented sigh. It feels like home. Jinki starts the car, turns the radio on, clicks it to his third saved channel. Taemin reaches over and clicks it to the second. The quick frown Jinki shoots him as he turns it back is something Taemin has been craving for the passed hour.

He closes his eyes and leans against the window, indulging himself in the predictable little nuances of Jinki’s driving. He feels lighter than he has in years.


End file.
